


Go On, Kiss the Girl

by lunaseemoony



Category: Casanova (UK), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Post-Episode: s02e04 The Girl in the Fireplace, Romance, Smut, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4380587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaseemoony/pseuds/lunaseemoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fit of jealousy against the Doctor’s Italian doppelganger gets him in trouble with Rose. But not all is lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is for bigwhofan's prompt
> 
> While this chapter is rated teen, its eventual follow-up will be rated NSFW, hence the explicit rating.

 

“This is all your fault, you know,” the Doctor accused, smacking Casanova on the arm with his psychic paper folio.

The blue-eyed impostor merely curled up his brow and fashioned that same wicked smile that had been eating away at the Doctor’s nerves all day. And really, how could Rose say that this syphilitic idiot looked anything like him? He wished that was the biggest blow she’d dealt him that day.

“My fault? After graciously offering my assistance, saving your sorry arse, mind you, this is how I’m thanked? And what exactly am I to be blamed for?” Casanova retorted. “Oh! I know what you want to say here.” He curled his lips into a pout and sat up straight, ruffling his shirt as if he had a coat on. “‘We were doing just fine until you showed up.’ Right? 'I could be right there lying next to her if it weren’t for you,’ yes?”

The Doctor stood up and began pacing the room. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we were! We were doing just fine! And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That so? Tell me again, then, how well that ridiculous paper of yours worked. Hm? Tell me where you would be right now if I hadn’t sweet talked the magistrate for you.”

“Magistrate’s  _wife_. And any idiot can impersonate a lawyer. There’s actual skill involved with using psychic paper.”

“Same difference. Could you imagine our poor Rose in prison?” he placed his hand on his exposed chest and swooned in a pronounced frown.

“She’s not  _our_  Rose,” the Doctor growled.

He shot him that sly grin again. “She’s not  _yours_  either, is she? That’s pretty clear to me.”

The Doctor looked on at Rose stirring in her slumber. She smacked her lips before drawing up the covers over her face. Though they were stashed away in Casanova’s little flat, neither of the men had been permitted to share the bed with Rose, despite the pair of them trying. At least the Doctor’s reasons were perfectly (well, mostly) innocent. He actually could have used some sleep. Maybe if he got some rest he wouldn’t make the same mistake that nearly got them arrested in the first place.

He’d told Rose that it was going to be a quick trip. She still insisted on dressing up and coming along. He couldn’t fault her for that. Venice did have its charms (minus a certain lecherous doppelganger). A batch of shimmers had been stolen and the Doctor detected they wound up in Venice. Normally he would say there was no harm in a few people running about in disguise. But the 18th century had a particularly delicate time stream. One misplaced person could jeopardize Italy’s entire future. Finding the thieves wasn’t meant to be the backbreaking and tedious work that it wound up being. So it was rather ironic then, that the reason the Doctor and Rose nearly found themselves in prison was due to the Doctor’s own thievery. But if Casanova hadn’t been distracting him, the Doctor might not have thought a priceless bracelet was one of the stolen shimmers.

They split up to scan the room separately, as they always did in such occasions. The Doctor would later learn that Rose mistook Casanova for him. That burned, but not quite as much as how quickly Rose fell into Casanova’s flirtatious trap even after learning the truth. And it didn’t matter that he found the man’s dancing sub-par, Rose was completely captivated by it - and him. All of the layers that Rose had put on to fit in with 18th century Venetian fashion were no issue to Casanova. He likened the man to a spider luring a beautiful butterfly into his trap. When the Doctor reminded Rose of their mission, Casanova leaned in and whispered something into her ear, making her shiver before she rewarded him with a tiny fit of giggles. He described to her his favorite spots in the city while stroking under her chin. Of course she ate it all up, and even encouraged him further with her seldom used coy smile.

He could lie and say that he felt it was all relatively harmless. But if that was the case, they would have found the shimmer thieves already and been on their merry way. While Rose was genuinely fooled by Casanova’s “gracious offer of assistance,” the Doctor knew better. He kicked the flirting up a notch once the the Doctor foolishly agreed. The Doctor didn’t need a native Venetian to get around. He could have done it on his own just fine. He’d wanted to appease Rose, who was flashing him her puppy eyes. Both of them were horribly weak to those sweet puppy eyes of hers.

The Doctor had done well until dinner that night. Really, he had. He’d made a right arse of himself, sure, but in a way that he might have been easily forgiven for later. Rose found the twins’ (as she’d taken to calling the pair of them, much to his chagrin) bickering really cute, despite the fact that she was the cause for it. She didn’t feel the same way about how the Doctor yanked him off of her after he’d saved them that night. But if she could have just seen from his perspective… watching Casanova suck a bit of sauce off her finger, listening to his horrible poetry (and of course swallowing the fact that she ate it up completely), the way that he’d stolen her tongue-tucked smile. That was  _his_ , it had always been his. And Casanova snatched it from the Doctor’s safe clutches. But if he thought that would have been the worst of it, he was sorely mistaken.

In the end it was the kiss that did him in. He’d lured Rose into a quiet little corner and whispered something into her ear before bringing her precious and pure lips to his lecherous face. Worse, the Doctor could  _hear_  Rose’s heart racing with excitement and practically  _taste_  her hormones gushing over the impostor. Her lips came back moist, red and swollen. She looked at him through hooded eyes while silently asking for more with her subtle smile. The Doctor swooped in before Casanova could deliver it.

They had a pretty heavy fight, which only added to the pit of guilt and inadequacy festering in his gut. She was just having a good time, she told him. She didn’t belong to him, or anyone for that matter. And then she twisted the blade she stuck him with by telling him that he had no right to be jealous. He argued with her on that one, even though he knew it was the truth. Rose wasn’t completely infatuated with Casanova as he’d been with Reinette. They both knew it. It didn’t make hearing it roared at him from her teary-eyed face any easier to swallow.

“I don’t know who this woman is that came between you two, but if I had to guess I would say you’re both only using her for an excuse,” Casanova suggested in a much more sober tone.

“For what?”

He sputtered a laugh. “Are you serious? Oh come on now. She said you were thick, but I didn’t think you were…” the Doctor scowled at him. “Fine then. Whatever. You can say what you want, but you ought to have a heart to heart with her. It’s not me she wants. She was only interested because I remind her of someone she’s really interested in. If you don’t talk to her, then you’ll have no reason to keep me from taking her for myself.”

The Doctor shoved Casanova to the floor. There was no Rose to yell at him this time. And seeing the infectious tart on his arse felt just a little bit too good, just what he needed. “You’re not touching her. We’re going to do what we came here for and  _leave_. You’re not laying a single finger on her. Not ever.”

There was nothing the Doctor could say that would wipe that disgustingly confident smile off his face. “You’re looking at this all wrong still, you know. Rose isn’t the delicate flower that her name implies. She can defend herself. She doesn’t need you to do that for her.” They both froze when Rose stirred again, purring and stretching in her deep slumber. “But you know that, don’t you? Otherwise why would you treat her as your true equal? Do you know just how easy you have it? It’s not even a challenge! Her heart has been yours for the taking all along you know. All you need to do is grab it!”

Rose blew Casanova a kiss as they stepped onto the TARDIS. The Doctor looked back at the man, who winked and nodded at him. “Do it!” he shouted, utterly disregarding the fact that Rose might hear. He jumped and cheered before waving his hands in shooing motions. He shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to be rid of Rose. But he couldn’t have been such a wretch if he wanted her to be happy. It was the one decent thought he’d have of the fellow. Maybe two. He closed the TARDIS doors and guided Rose to the railing before she took her usual spot on the jump seat.

“Doctor?” she prompted when he leaned in. “What’s wrong?” Though she looked a bit concerned, there was just a little bit of a smile tugging at her lips.

Her heart racing for him was all the encouragement he ever needed. “Rose, we need to talk.”


	2. A Steamy Conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who requested a second part to this fic. : ) Here you go! I'm sure it goes without saying, but this one's NSFW.

_Rose blew Casanova a kiss as they stepped onto the TARDIS. The Doctor looked back at the man, who winked and nodded at him. “Do it!” he shouted, utterly disregarding the fact that Rose might hear. He jumped and cheered before waving his hands in shooing motions. He shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to be rid of Rose. But he couldn’t have been such a wretch if he wanted her to be happy. It was the one decent thought he’d have of the fellow. Maybe two. He closed the TARDIS doors and guided Rose to the railing before she took her usual spot on the jump seat._

_“Doctor?” she prompted when he leaned in. “What’s wrong?” Though she looked a bit concerned, there was just a little bit of a smile tugging at her lips._

_Her heart racing for him was all the encouragement he ever needed. “Rose, we need to talk.”_

 

 

“Talk? About what? Right now?” Rose played innocent and shifted in her dress. It itched and smothered her. She wanted nothing more than to be out of it.

It could be anything, she told herself, even while the rusted railing dug into her back. With him, it could be anything. Though he had her pinned, and was puffing stale, clammy breaths onto her forehead, he could be about to tell her about the banana groves of Villengard again. To him, that was always an important discussion. She also considered as he tossed his coat and jacket onto the spiral staircase behind him that she might need to brace herself for another fight. Each one had her challenging just how close she was with the Doctor. His smoldering gaze halting her every move was offering little support for a more pleasant conversation. She could have easily slipped past him. But with him leaning into her just slightly, his stubbly skin so close to hers, _he_ was still invading her consciousness. Images of the man who cruelly resembled the Doctor pressing her into a wall had a firm grasp on her thoughts.

“Yes, right now,” the Doctor asserted, and she swallowed a yip when he bore down on her, hand pressing into her shoulder. “And you know about what, don't you, Rose?”

She didn't feel the desire to play any games, she knew that much. Not with dry hand cupping her bare shoulder, fingers digging in just a bit more with each second. Though his skin was so cool, his tough skin scratched at hers. Still, together it was just the right amount of friction. She should have wanted to run or slap him. After the past couple days of him acting possessive, rude, and downright childish, she should want nothing to do with him. But Casanova saw to it that the Doctor was all she could think about in that time, think about what they could have together, and what they'd been missing out on. The last time Rose had been this close to the Doctor, with him panting hot breaths on her face and holding her so desperately, she hadn't rightly been herself. It was stupid, she thought to herself, but if all she had to do to revel in it just a little was hear him out, fine. She'd listen. Rose curled her toes into her shoes and found the sheet of stubble along his jaw. She could almost feel its coarseness grazing her neck along with a trail of kisses. She couldn't even blame Casanova for putting her in the frame of mind. He just had the right face for it. She knew the moment the Doctor's hand claimed her hip that only his face fit the bill. Nobody could replace her Doctor, not that the stupid, jealous pillock knew it.

“Yeah,” she rasped and opened her mouth for a deep sigh. “I think I know.”

He relaxed his grip and let his shoulders fall like a rag doll's. “I was a bum.”

A slight twinge of guilt pursed her lips, but her grip on the rails remained resolute. Not what she'd expected. “I don't want to talk about that, Doctor.” He moved to speak, but she was just a little quicker. “I heard you and him talking earlier, when you thought I was sleeping.”

He relinquished his grip on her shoulder, and though it was a bit warmer then, she missed that little bit contact acutely. She could almost see herself pulling him to her by his hips. He wouldn't resist, she'd learned as much. He was hers for the taking. Only a little bit of uncertainty floated around between them. Her urge to squash it once and for all was never stronger.

“What did you hear?”

Rose tucked her hair behind her ears and began twirling a few wisps between her fingers. She'd been lapping up everything that he'd said, no matter what he'd meant by it. It was easier to hide her squirming in bed when they weren't paying as much attention. “That there's no 'our Rose,'” she paused and felt him leaning in. Definitely could do without all the layers of her dress. “That he's not laying a finger on me.” She felt heat rising to her cheeks with every spoken word.

“What I should have said was _nobody_ is touching you, Rose.”

“Why?” she probed, knowing full well how bad of an idea it was to be feeding the Doctor's natural vein of possessiveness.

He leaned in closer, his lips within kissing reach before he spoke, floating just above whispers. “Because I'm done letting other men come between us.”

“Or women,” she added as he nudged her cheek.

A growl under his breath into her neck sent a fierce shiver right down her spine. “Anyone. I don't care who. I'm done with it.”

“He didn't really come between us, Doctor,” Rose soothed.

He interrupted before she could continue, pulling her into a hug. “He did because I let him.” His tone was laced with anger, even as he brushed a kiss onto her neck.

“I was thinking of you, though. He looks so much like you. And I know you're different! I just couldn't help myself. He was nice. Casanova made me feel special, and treated me like, I dunno...” she trailed off.

“Like you deserve to be treated, Rose. Desired, attractive,” he whispered into her ear before giving it a testing nibble.

“I don't want you to be him!” Rose blurted out, and pushed him away. She closed her eyes and filled her lungs deep before opening them to a wounded Doctor. Though he was trying to hide it. “I want my Doctor. I want _you_. But I don't want this to happen because you were a jealous twat.”

He searched her face, eyes wandering to and fro wondering where to settle. They found a spot in her eyes, seeking out all the hope from them that he could, she wagered. “What is 'this,' then, Rose?”

“Us. You and me,” she offered.

He sighed and pulled her off the railing by her hands, letting her slip into his arms again. “Say that again.”

And as if she needed further encouragement, he lifted her chin in his palm and brought it up to his for a chaste kiss. It might have done worse than the more heated, needy kiss she was craving, because it left her aching for more. She got just a brush of his light stubble, a lick of his chapped lips, a tease of his nose on her cheek that sent warm shivers rippling down her abdomen. She was close to letting his fingers on her skirt simply rip it right off. Close.

“You and me,” she repeated. “But I mean it Doctor. I don't want this just because -”

“Trust me, Rose. Please?”

A simple nod was all the Doctor needed, she learned. He dove in for another kiss before Rose could take a proper breath. He missed the first time. Though maybe the way he trapped her jaw between his lips, brushing it gently with his tongue was intentional. It certainly sent her senses reeling, and waves of tingling shivers rocketing down her spine. When he did reach her lips those shivers began to coil between her legs, cruelly trapped beneath at least three layers of dress. As if she needed another reminder of how bad an idea it was. The Doctor didn't take long to share his opinions on this sentiment. His lips were impossible to tie down, wandering from hers to her neck and straight to her chest. She barely had a chance to really let his taste sit on her tongue before he'd moved on. There was no easing himself in, he went right for the kill, parting his lips to sear kisses on her jaw, lips, neck and breasts. Rose was thankful for the stairs to fall back on, and if he fumbled it didn't rob him of much momentum. He was clawing at the neckline of her dress to reach the cleavage trapped there, tickling her chin with his wild tresses as he growled his mild success into her flesh with his teeth.

“Doctor...” Rose sighed as he sucked a bit of her skin to his lips, little squeaks climbing right over her murmur. “Not here,”

“Tell me where,” he demanded after releasing her breast with a pop, revealing a wine colored welt where his lips had been. He dropped a moist kiss above her heart, and she felt his fingers dancing along her spine tugging at her laces while awaiting her answer. “Bed? Beds are good. Nice and soft,” he offered with a low and gravelly voice right into her shoulder. “Couch? Couches are fun. I like couches,” he hummed into her neck and slipped a hand under her dress to palm her breast.

“Shower,” Rose squeaked. Every tingling nerve ending, every inch of tingling skin where he'd touched it wanted to hold her back. But the closer the Doctor got to undressing her, the more self-conscious she felt about not having bathed for a couple days. “I really need a shower.”

He chuckled into her shoulder and kissed it. “You _are_ brilliant, Rose Tyler. I love it.”

“No, I mean -”

He lifted his head and stole her gaze through dark, hooded eyes. “Let me come with you.” It was difficult to tell him no when she took that phrase south of where it was meant to be. And the deal was sealed when she stood up and felt that much damper between her thighs. She took his hand, same as they always had, and started leading him up the stairs. But he wouldn't budge. “Mm mm,” he shook his head and tugged her down a step. “ _My_ room.”

In her fantasies (alright fine, yes, she did have them) the Doctor deftly removed her dress like a professional. And maybe if he was Casanova it would be a simple task to unlace the back and slip it right off along with the chemise she wore underneath. Casanova wasn't for her, though. Never had been. He was exciting, and rather charming, but something about him was off, dark. No, the one for Rose was the one fumbling with the laces and growling at them for being so complicated. Rose had the one that was devising an easier system as he helped her out of it, mentally drawing up a pattern as he worked at the undergarments. The Doctor, the one marveling at her ability to even get these on by herself, was the man undressing her in _his_ bedroom (he'd stressed that at least once more along the way) and pausing to kiss the small of her back before helping her step out of it all. He was hers.

He shimmied out of his oxford and vest before Rose could turn about to look at him. He sighed her name as he lured her into his arms from behind. And though her chest was thumping, she sighed right along with him. His gently chiseled stomach cooled the baking skin on her back. She hummed as he pressed a kiss to her hair and pulled her in tighter. Rose puffed a cool breath as the leather and cold metal of his belt dug into the dip of her spine.

“I hated seeing him with you,” the Doctor confessed into her sweat-dampened hair. “Touching you,” he whispered as he let his hands draw a path down her bare hips and thighs. “Kissing you,” he added with parted lips onto her shoulder. “Whispering into your ear. Ooh, I _hated_ it.”

“It's just you and me, Doctor.”

He growled into her neck as he whipped off his belt. “I like the sound of that. You make me so selfish, Rose. D'you know that, how greedy you make me?”

“Just as long as I can be selfish too,” Rose played, and craned her neck to reach up and press her lips to his.

“Any day, every day, anytime. I'm yours.”

Rose turned around in his arms to see his sincere and creased brow unfolding into his classic,vacant grin. She rutted her hips into his trousers as she felt his hands making a trip up her legs to her bum and finally resting on her hips. As the Doctor pulled her in, her slick stomach and chest clung to his. It was so tempting to give in right there, especially when his thin smattering of chest hair brushed her nipples and had them pebbling against his cool skin. He brought a leg between hers and made her whimper when he raised it gently.

“Shower,” she rasped. When he whined she added, “I'm not making love to you all sweaty.”

“We can make love in the shower,” he reasoned with a smile taking over his expression once again. He paused over the words 'make love,' letting them roll off his tongue with a soft brogue smoothing over her ears like a warm blanket.

“Or in bed after.”

The Doctor popped the button on his trousers, and then began picking at the pins keeping her hair up. It almost felt routine, the way he took it, as though they'd done this many times before. “Not feeling adventurous today, Rose Tyler?”

“I thought our first time should be special.”

He hummed a kiss to her lips. “Of course it'll be special. As long as you're here with me, every time will be special.” He didn't say anything, but just a slight toothy grin told her he enjoyed the hint of blush reddening her cheeks and ears. “Alright, I'll behave, as long as you do.”

Rose's strategy was to stay behind him, with the idea that if she didn't see his front she wouldn't be tempted to “misbehave.” They weren't in the ensuite yet when she realized how ridiculous it sounded in her head. He made it sound as though he'd have shagged her right there on those stairs, shower or no shower. This is what happens when a girl goes too long without, she told herself. The poor Doctor didn't have to be responsible for holding up her fantasies. She wasn't anticipating him having a perfectly plush arse, nor a complete lack of shyness in revealing it.

“Rose, you coming?” the Doctor stood in the doorway to the ensuite, hanging his arm on the frame. Just a hint of worry turned his lips.

Rose's eyes were flooded with the sight of a naked Doctor all at once. Suddenly her plan seemed incredibly childish. On the telly lovers were always slipping in to the shower with their partners unnoticed, so of course she assumed it would work for her. That was before she caught a glimpse – or a good long stare, rather – of his lean frame, from his bobbing adam's apple to his peachy soft legs. All along he'd been hiding some well sculpted muscles beneath all those layers of his suits. There was one set of muscles that really captured her attention, and they framed a half hard cock throbbing between his legs. Could he really behave himself? Could she?

Rose had an answer in merely a few heartbeats. The Doctor stepped into the alcove in his ensuite wall making up the shower and beckoned her in with outstretched fingers. He pressed a few buttons on the tiled wall and mumbled something about the temperature being more to her liking than what he normally used. He went straight to work, leaving Rose to stare while he stood under the jets, closed his eyes and surrendered himself. Watching the water streaming down onto his skin and kissing his muscles with slickness was bad enough. He pulled out the soap and his hands began to wander over the subtle ridges on his stomach, ghosting over his arms before bringing them up to his face where his fingers combed through his now damp tresses.

How was she supposed to not touch him, not help massage him clean, or kiss his back as she wrapped her hands around him? Witnessing his hands wander over his own body made standing back and watching just plain cruel. It was impossible to behave when he encouraged her explorations by threading his fingers with hers. He didn't tease her inability to follow through with her plans, didn't even speak a word at first. He showed her where he wanted her and how he liked to be touched. He had her hands wrapping around his chest and stomach before letting him cup his hips and massage his thighs. He let go then, giving her freedom to roam where she pleased.

Rose was so close, her thumbs barely brushing the loose curls marking the Doctor's manhood. He so rarely swore, but he did hiss one when she enclosed him in her palm. He braced his hand on the tiles and croaked, “Fuck, Rose,” as he hardened fully beneath her fingers. She never asked if it was okay, but learned quickly when he bucked into her hand. She pressed a few kisses to his back while playing with gentle strokes. Regardless of what he wanted, she was already aching for more friction that the soap beneath her fingers wouldn't allow for. She leaned in to his back and pressed her hardened nipples to his slick skin.

He sucked in a steamy breath as his cock pulsed and throbbed in her hand. He rocked his hips with her wrist, and Rose made a quick decision to work with it rather than keeping him still. It might have been a really long time for him since a woman touched him (she vainly hoped so, at least). She brought her thumb over his tip and felt him twitch as she mapped it with a sweep of her fingers around it. They both needed more than just touch, Rose mused with a sigh as she tightened her hand around his length. She needed to relieve a little pressure, needed his length buried somewhere other than in her palm, she thought as she squeezed her thighs together. His husky groans were all that slipped through the pounding of her heart in her ears. His hissing into the warm tiles was for her, she reminded herself after speeding up a bit. The gentle croaking whimpers of her name into his arm had pressure and heat coiling up between her thighs.

“Rose, I can't...” the Doctor panted.

She brought her face to his arm, feeling his biceps tense beneath her lips as she kissed it. “You can,” she murmured between kisses and strokes. “I've got you, let go.”

He didn't need any further encouragement. And though he tensed up in her arms, his breathing sped up to a gallop. He groaned when she cupped his balls, and felt them tightening in her palm. He cried her name into his arm as he rocked his hips into her hand. She resisted the intense urge to relieve some of the throbbing between her legs as she watched him release his own tension onto his belly.

Not a heartbeat after the evidence washed away she was in his arms being swathed in wet kisses. His peals of her name on her neck, shoulder and chest were more than enough to bathe her skin in heat, forget the shower. Other than that, the Doctor was quiet. His mouth might have done all the talking, reducing Rose to panted whimpers as he swirled his tongue around her nipple, wrinkling it in his lips. But he didn't speak any words other than hums and whispers of her name. He stopped to admire the love mark he left her with in the console room, bouncing his eyebrows at her before sinking down to the floor just a bit further.

He explored more with his mouth than he did with his hands, brushing his lips over small expanses of skin until he found the sensitive ones. He lingered over her navel, giving it a taste with a wicked grin shot her way. Rose could have pretended to be modest like every other girl, could have offered the Doctor an out. But the truth was she wanted him closer, reveled in her heart ringing in her ears louder with each inch closer he got to her little patch of curls heralding her sex. He made his intentions very clear when he swatted her hand away from it. He had so much tension building up in the tight bundles of nerves there, ever since they stepped back on the TARDIS. But he wouldn't let her ease it herself, he told her with his fingers clasping her thighs as he parted them. She'd already interrupted him twice. His furrowed brow and soft growl into her mons told her he wasn't to be interrupted again.

The Doctor really was nothing like Casanova. The Italian was just patient enough, and Rose imagined him sweet-talking his way into her knickers. The Doctor was impatient and selfish, by his own admission. He could have said anything, could have even asked for reassurance. If he needed it, it showed only with a little twinkle in his eyes as he cupped her sex with his mouth. Just a little twinkle of wonder, a hope that he was doing this right. The rest of him, particularly his fingers, were quite sure of what he was doing. His fingers dug into her legs, and she imagined them claiming her for himself. He whispered against her heat how she'd already been wet, and flashed her a cocky grin. It evaporated quickly though, as he wasted no time in capturing her viciously throbbing clit between his lips.

“Oh god, Doctor...” she moaned into the warm cascade of water. “Right there. Don't stop, please.”

There was a question in his eyes, which she answered with a gasp as he sucked on the little hot button. His skin might have been temperate from the hot water, but his lips – particularly his tongue – were still chilled. She thought about his cold hands a lot, and certainly had more than a couple of dreams about ending her two year dry spell with him. And alright fine, she'd definitely imagined him putting his running mouth and flapping tongue to good use, head buried between her thighs. But like this, knelt in front of her with warm water streaming down to his face and streaking through his chocolate hair? She never imagined he could be serious about it, eagerly lapping up her desire for him, all the while offering her a gentle gaze of admiration.

That _would_ be the precise moment she felt flooded with emotions. And it made no sense. But no matter how much Rose reminded herself the Doctor was merely making up for acting like a jealous cad, she couldn't stop the warmth welling up in her chest. It threatened to spill right out of her mouth along with her panting of his name. Chewing on her lip was all she could do to keep from blurting it out when he sought her approval for inserting his finger in her sex.

Where before she felt little ripples of pleasure radiating from her nethers, now they were waves cresting higher and higher with each curl of his tongue over her lips and every gentle nibble on her clit. She imagined his finger was a completely different appendage as it pumped gently in and out. He groaned as she tightened around it. It was so easy to become lost in it all, in the fog of steam and desire permeating the Doctor's ensuite. It was even easier to become lost in his eyes, in her fingers combing the suds from his sleek hair.

“I'm gonna slip,” Rose hiccuped a few minutes later. Just as she felt her sex threatening to slip over the edge, her feet became slick as her toes curled into the tile floor.

“Slip. I've got you, Rose,” the Doctor soothed with a hand on her hip. With a slick pop of his finger, his other hand found her bare hip and braced her.

Rose did as he bid, and slowly slid along the wall to the floor. The Doctor went down with her, by all appearances fully intent on continuing his work. But along the way she caught a glimpse of his cock, rock hard again and bobbing with his movements. Her legs acted before she could really think, reeling him in with her heels dug into his bum.

“I need you,” Rose confessed with a blush as his cock brushed her folds.

“Mm, my three new favorite words, right there,” he hummed into her jaw along with a few sizzling kisses and buzzing nibbles on her ear.

Rose wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down to her, letting his weight plaster his stomach to hers. She wriggled in his arms until she could feel his hearts beating into her breasts. He shielded her from the warm waterfall, but his long bangs dripped onto her cheeks. The Doctor brought his kisses to her lips, not caring much for aim as he caught a bit of her cheek in it. She moaned into his mouth as he pressed his nose to her cheek and his cock to her entrance.

“I've got three more words,” Rose bleated.

“Me too.”

The shower floor was slippery, but Rose never felt more secure than when she was in the Doctor's arms. He had her, and he didn't need to say it for her to feel it. He also didn't need to tell her anything so remotely immature as she was his or that she belonged to him. He made the fact known with his actions. It was simple to put together. They were in _his_ bedroom, in _his_ shower. Her desires and pleasures were his, definitely. He even stole the air from her lungs when he drove into her, sending sharp, hot tremors shooting out from her sex. She bit back a swear, and searched for his lips to crush instead. They were slippery, and coated in her own taste, but he offered them as they basked in a wave of completion. He simply held her there for a moment as they were gently rained on, surrounded by heat, fog, and the pulsing shared between their joined flesh.

“Rose,” he sighed into her neck. He offered her a few slow rocks of his hips against hers and moaned in her ear. “Rose,” he repeated. He croaked a couple of sounds she thought were meant to be words, but he must not have been able to manage. He'd tried, at least.

“I love you,” Rose mouthed against his shoulder as he set a slow, deep rhythm.

“Yes,” he hissed. He gave her a hard thrust, and must have known he hit her sweet spot, because he repeated it with a grin. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed. “I love you too, Rose.”

She knew they were making love in a shower on the floor. But he made it so easy to forget that they couldn't simply float away together on a warm stream. He pressed his forehead to hers and smiled, batting his soft eyelashes with hers. They'd been idiots, waiting this long, waiting for people to come between them to act. But he was _her_ idiot. She came to realize it the more they rocked together in heat; the more at home she felt with his skin pressed against hers; the more he whispered her name over and over (because it was easier than repeating the phrase, she'd worked this much out); the closer she became to sharing the ultimate pleasure with her Doctor. She needed him, and couldn't be bothered to feel ashamed by that fact when he saw her arching into him, trembling madly as she moaned her peak right into his neck. They could work out the kinks later, Rose thought. For now they were content basking in the glow of being just what the other needed, two specifically carved puzzle pieces fitting together.

 


End file.
